


Corpses & Bites

by dailyroutineat221B



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Biting, M/M, Neck Kissing, Necks, Sherlock Experiments on John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-22
Updated: 2013-04-22
Packaged: 2017-12-09 05:06:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/770300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dailyroutineat221B/pseuds/dailyroutineat221B
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I need you to let me bite your neck.” Sherlock said casually, like he was asking John to get him a glass of water.</p><p>“I-I… erm…what? I…” John blushed.</p><p>“Yes, John. I need to bite and suck at your neck to observe the time, the intensity and measure these type of marks.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Corpses & Bites

John was up early that morning. He was serving himself a cup of tea when Sherlock entered the kitchen.

“John, I need your help in this case,” Sherlock said as he handed a couple of papers to John.

John laid the papers down on the table and turned his attention back to his tea. “Do you mind telling me about it while I eat? I just woke up.”

“Fine. It’s that case of those lovers I was telling you about yesterday.”

“Right…and how can I help you?” John took a sip of his tea, waiting for his friend to answer.

“I need to know how those marks appeared on the victim’s neck.”

“Oh, Sherlock, you might not know but some people have…”

“I know why the marks were there, but I need to know more details, John,” Sherlock looked at John with hope that he may have understood, but he was still looking at him with furrowed eyebrows. “Look, I already tried to bite a corpse in the morgue and it gave me nothing, so we know it wasn’t post mortem…”

“Wait. You bit a corpse’s neck?” John asked incredulous.

“Of course, how else would we know if those weren’t post mortem?”

“Oh my God. That’s disgusting.” John said as he dropped the toast he was eating on the plate.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t use my teeth,” Sherlock said “I used a resin mold from his dead partner.”

“So you’ve put some dead person’s teeth in your mouth to bite another dead person?”

“Yes, John, I did it, but we’re getting off the subject here…”

“Oh, there’s more?” John looked at his food and pushed the plate away. He put his elbow on the table to support his head. “Where exactly do I fit in this?”

“I need you to let me bite your neck.” Sherlock said casually, like he was asking John to get him a glass of water.

“I-I… erm…what? I…” John blushed.

“Yes, John. I need to bite and suck at your neck to observe the time, the intensity and measure these type of marks.”

“Can I say no?” John was embarrassed that he was already accepting the idea.

“No. It’s the only way.” Sherlock said simply.

“Jesus…Sherlock, it’s so embarrassing.”

“You never thought it embarrassing all the times you came back home with marks from your girlfriends, Watson.”

“It’s completely different! COMPLETELY!!” John’s face was scarlet.

“You’re right. We doing it for science and you do it for s—“

“ALRIGHT, Alright. I got it. Ok. Just let me get ready, will you?”

“Take your time.”

John showered as fast as he could, put on some jeans and a t-shirt, he was about to leave his bedroom when he turned back, looked through his comber and picked a cologne. He examined the flask and laid it back on the comber, he looked himself in the mirror. ‘You’re being ridiculous,’ he thought. ‘Whatever.’ He grabbed the cologne again and put just a little behind his ears. He left his bedroom without a second glance in the mirror.

“Sherlock?” He called his friend.

“Here,” the deep voice of Sherlock echoed from the hall.

John walked to the room to find Sherlock with a can of whipped cream in his hands.

“What is this?” John pointed to Sherlock’s hands.

“Whipped cream,” Sherlock replied as it was the most obvious thing in earth.

“You are kidding me, right?” John was running his fingers through his hair.

“You don’t have to be so nervous. We need something to simulate the lube.”

“I’m not nervo—-“ If John hadn’t been so eager to deny how nervous he was, the mini-heart attack he had at Sherlock’s words would have hit him sooner. “LUBE?” he choked out.

“Yes, you are nervous – you only run your fingers through your hair like that when you’re nervous, and yes, lube – if you had read the papers I handed you, you would probably know that they reported traces of some type of iced lube in the victims neck. So, I don’t have any iced lube and I’m assuming you don’t have any either, so…whipped cream. Whipped cream has the same texture and some preservatives in common with that kind of lube. Also it simulates the low temperature the lube could reach in contact with skin.”

“Holy mother…” John sighed in relief. “Alright, if you say so… let’s end this.”

“Right. Take off your t-shirt, please.” 

“Ok.” At this point John wasn’t complaining anymore. It could get worse. So he did as he was told.

Sherlock grabbed a pen and sketched a vertical line from John’s chin to his chest.

“Your right side will take the whipped cream and your left will go dry. Are you ready?” Sherlock asked.

“God help me, yes.” He gulped.

Sherlock proceeded to his left side first. He leaned in and John could feel his breath hitting the skin of his neck and he anticipated the touch, but it never came.

“Sherlock, what are you waiting for?”

“Why is your pulse so accelerated?”

“For God’s sake, Sherlock! Do it already.”

“I can’t. It is supposed to gradually accelerate your pulse. It will alter the results if I start with you almost having a stroke.”

“I don’t know, maybe I’m afraid because you’re a fucking psychopath who can bite my jugular out? This is a simulation. It will never meet the real situation parameters. Go on.”

“Alright, just shut up now.”

Sherlock closed the gap between his lips and John’s flesh. John raised his chin a little bit to make more room for Sherlock. He felt the little shiver running down his spine. John was confused about what he should do with his hands. They were hanging free on his sides, but it felt so amiss. He awkwardly moved them to Sherlock’s waist.

Sherlock was about to use his teeth for the first time when he felt John’s hands.

“John, I’m not one of your girlfriends.” He mumbled against John’s neck.

“Right… I mean, I know—I mean…” John was examining a new sensation as Sherlock’s low tone was resonating against his sensitive flesh. “What?”

“You’re wearing the cologne you wear when you go out with your girlfriends and your hands are on my waist.” Sherlock said pointedly.

“I’m sorry,” he said as he hurriedly dropped his hands from Sherlock’s waist. “Well, I thought it would be a little more pleasing if I wasn’t stinking. I’m sorry if I thought about your comfort.”

“I bit corpses. I don’t care about smells,” Sherlock trailed his way to John’s Adam’s apple and bit lightly at it.

“Of course, I forgot you’re a weirdo.” John’s voice vacillating as Sherlock got to his Adam’s apple.

“And I am pleased,” Sherlock said on a low chuckle that rumbled along John’s throat to his groin.

John gulped again. Sherlock slid his mouth to John’s collarbone and bit a little harder, expecting John to complain about it, but when he got nothing from his friend he bit really hard. John let out a gasp and kicked Sherlock’s legs.

“Ouch, John!” Sherlock complained.

“I’m sorry, it was a reflex.”

“Watch those reflexes, will you?”

“I am. I really am,” John mumbled more to himself than to Sherlock. 

Sherlock noticed something different in John’s retort, but he wasn’t sure what it was. He let it go.

“Now I’m going to start to suck you,” he warned John as he approached his body again.

“Oh my god, Sherlock, watch your terms!”

“It’s the correct term. I’m not using my teeth any more. I’m going only to use my lips and breath to apply suction on your flesh. So, I’m actually sucking you.”

“Alright, Alright….just, just don’t mention it to anyone, ok?” John closed his eyes to wait for the suction to begin.

Sherlock pouted his lips and dropped his mouth to John’s jawbone and tried to aspirate the flesh or something like that. John opened his eyes and started to laugh. Sherlock backed away with a confused look.

“What?” he asked.

“You have no idea on how to do it! I’d say you suck, but it will be pretty inappropriate.” John was laughing at his own joke when Sherlock interrupted.

“Then show me. It’s not my fault you’ve sucked a lot of people.”

“Can you stop saying that? It’s so wrong.”

“It’s not wrong. I already explained it to you. Can you teach me how to suck you?”

“OH MY GOD, shut up, Sherlock!” John pushed Sherlock a little harder than he intended, causing his friend to hit the wall with a muffled thud.

“Sorry,” John whispered. Sherlock didn’t seem offended or angry, but he didn’t answer.

“First, you have to moisten your lips.” John slipped his tongue through his lips. “Then, you just part your lips, opening slightly your mouth, pouting your lips in an ellipse shape.”

“John, you can save your breath and our time by just showing me. I learn fast, you don’t have to explain it to me.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Smarty pants.”

John leaned in, pressing himself against Sherlock’s body for support. Sherlock was taller than him, so he couldn’t reach his neck without support and pushing himself against him. Sherlock’s eyes were fixed on the wall across the room and he was holding his breath. John thought about making a comment about his rushed pulse and lack of breathing, but he let the thought go when he reached Sherlock’s neck and sucked gently at it. He liked how his friend’s skin was so soft. Without realizing what he was doing, he deepened the suction while trailing his way down Sherlock’s neck, applying a little bit of tongue. When he reached his friend’s collarbone, he felt a strong grip at his shoulder that dragged him back to reality. Both were breathless.

“John, I know what happened! The lovers…I got it! I need to go to Lestrade right now!” Sherlock said with a shaking voice while disentangling himself from John.

“Good, I think you should hurry,” John was so confused, frustrated and agitated that he didn’t bother to ask for more details.

“I’ll be right back,” Sherlock grabbed his coat from the couch and handed the unused whipped cream can to John and stormed out, leaving him alone in the room.

John threw himself in the couch and let out a long and heavy sigh. He dragged his hands to his face and rubbed them across his eyes. His thoughts were running so fast in his head. He knew Sherlock was lying; he hadn’t realized anything.

“This is much too….weird,” he mumbled to himself.

He was afraid of his own body. He was afraid to move. He was scared because he was aware of his body’s response. He was scared because he was aware of Sherlock’s excitement too.  
“Stupid idea,” he muttered to the empty room.

It took two hours for Sherlock to get back home. When he arrived, John was washing the dishes. He stared at John’s back for few second before he spoke.

“John, we have a case.”

He turned to Sherlock, looking to the papers in his hands.

“Great!”  
He dried his hands on the dishcloth and both sat at the table to discuss the crime.

Neither of them ever talked about that incident again. John prohibited himself to even think about that. Sherlock just deleted it. Well, at least it was what they told themselves. But sometimes, from time to time, they got caught staring at each other with a different glow in their eyes. Lucky for them the windows were always open and something was always shining and reflecting in their eyes.

 

 

End.

**Author's Note:**

> Liked this story? Try my other works:
> 
> http://archiveofourown.org/users/dailyroutineat221B/works
> 
> Thank you.


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